


Dear Cameron

by Shippershape



Series: Stretch & Dr. Goodkin [15]
Category: Stitchers (TV)
Genre: F/M, Love Letters, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-16 22:11:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 4,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4641984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shippershape/pseuds/Shippershape
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of notes Kirsten writes to Cameron while he's in a coma. Imported from tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dear Cameron,

When you killed yourself you made a decision about how I was going to live the rest of my life. You knew you might not wake up. That was a sacrifice I had to make, too. So know two things.

1\. You’re impossible. You broke all the rules. You showed me how to find myself. You made me human. You gave me time, and feeling, and life. In you, I found my heart. And it just stopped.

2\. You’re entirely too good for me. I’ve been in your head, and I know how you see me. You’ve put me on a pedestal I don’t know how to begin to break down. I know I won’t convince you of this. I know I can’t make you stop loving me. Selfishly, I’ve never been more glad of anything in my life. 

So wake up, Cameron. You woke me up. Now it’s your turn.

—  | Love, and I do mean love, Kirsten.   
---|---


	2. Chapter 2

Dear Dr. Goodkin,

I wish I had never met you. There were days when I would look at you and think ‘It feels as if I’ve known him my whole life’. I thought that was my Temporal Dysplasia. It turns out I was wrong. 

It’s amazing how a person’s entire world can exist in a 15x15 hospital room. I haven’t left this room in 8 days. Then again, neither have you. 

You know what? I don’t think it’s worth it after all. Tennyson was wrong.

—  | I don’t think I’ll ever forgive you.  
---|---


	3. Chapter 3

Cameron,

Do you know what it’s like to love a dying man? I do.

You don’t know this, but the food here is terrible. You would be horrified. I’ve been living off hospital jello for two weeks. Camille is reading this over my shoulder. She says you’re not dying. You aren’t waking up though.

I feel like I’m failing you. If you were here, you would tell me how to fix this. 

How do I fix you?

—  | I miss chinese food. I miss you.  
---|---


	4. Chapter 4

Please,

Wake up. I can’t do this anymore. It’s been twenty-seven days. I felt every single one of them.

If you don’t wake up I’ll have to go the rest of my life feeling every second of your absence.

You’ve ruined me.

Heartbreaking loss, right? I don’t actually think there are words for what this is.

—  | I think this is a love letter. I think they all were.   
---|---


	5. Chapter 5

Dear Cameron,

 

You know what i hate about you?

Absolutely nothing.

I hate this quiet, though.

Come back to me.

 

—It’s been thirty days since I’ve heard your voice.


	6. Chapter 6

Dear Kirsten,

I know you don’t think I can hear you. I can though. I’m beginning to think I would be able to hear you from the other side, you’ve become almost indistinguishable from the other voices inside my head.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, you’re a part of me now, Stretch.

I can hear you crying. I wish you wouldn’t. I wish you were happy. I wish you would get the hell out of here and forget me.

Please don’t forget me.

You keep asking me to come back, but I’m here. I’m trying.

I swear to god I’m trying.

I didn’t want to leave you, Stretch, but I don’t regret what I did. It gets harder, though, when I’m paralyzed in this bed listening to you tell me you love me. I would have given anything to hear that. Including my life, I guess. I just want to say it back, once. I think you know, but it’s not fair that you get to say it, over and over, and I’m stuck here with the words caught in my throat along with this tube. 

I love you.  
  


\- Cameron.

  
P.S. Please lay off the Jell-O.


	7. Chapter 7

Dear Cameron,

You broke Kirsten. She’s like a ghost now, all pale and wispy, sometimes I feel like I could put my fingers right through her. The longer this goes on the less I recognize her. It’s funny, I never really thought about how much you changed her until you were gone. She’s not just hard now, she’s brittle. I’m afraid if I touch her she’ll shatter into a million lonely pieces.

I know I used to give you shit about your crush on her, but I get it now. I look at her and know I’ll never love anyone like she loves you. I guess that’s how you felt, too. How you feel. 

I’m not really sure which one of you is less alive anymore. Please don’t die. I think you’d take her with you.

\- Dead or alive-well, you know. Camille.


	8. Chapter 8

Dear Cameron,

Camille is walking around like I’m breakable. I think we’re past that. I think I’m already broken. Just like you.

Does that mean we can be together? Broken pieces hanging somewhere in between here and where you are? Maggie thinks I’m losing my mind, I think I might agree with her. My mind is with you, wherever you are. My heart too. Bring them home, I’ll wait for you.

I wa-

Did I imagine it, or did your finger just twitch?

\- You can have all of me. Here or anywhere. I'll go with you.


	9. Chapter 9

Dear Kirsten,  
  


You didn’t imagine it. I’m coming for you, Stretch.

  
-Don't go anywhere. I'll be there soon. Cameron

 


	10. Chapter 10

Dear Cameron,

They’re taking you off of life support tomorrow. They thought I didn’t know. I’ve had a lot of free time, I hacked into your medical file. I found your living will the day after we got here. I knew.

Maggie asked me to write your obituary. She says she thinks I have a lot to say about you. So here goes.

_Cameron Goodkin was a man of science. He was brilliant, and curious, and driven. He cared deeply about his work, because he thought that what he could do in a lab was his best shot at accomplishing something good. But he didn’t know that he was something good. Cameron was warm, and kind, he valued his friends above everything. He made everyone around him feel safe, and loved, and important._

_Except for that one time he called me ‘Queen of the Estupidos’._

_The world is darker, emptier without him. We took him for granted while he was here. We didn’t know how rare a person he was, how lucky we were to have him. And now he’s gone, and we’re worse off for it, and sadly most of the world won’t know what a loss that is. But I do._

_To say that Cameron will be missed is so inadequate it seems like a waste of words. Cameron will be loved, wholly, painfully, even in his absence. The work he leaves behind is a legacy, undoubtedly, but the friends he leaves behind know that his work only scratches the surface of what he gave us. We thank him, not for his science but for his compassion, his heart._

_We’ll miss you Cameron. Without your light, this darkness is impenetrable._

So there. That’s all you get. That’s all I can say, on paper or out loud. They’re just words, Cameron, do you understand that? If you die, that’s all you get. The stilted writing of a girl who just only started to understand her emotions and doesn’t really know how to say any of it. That’s how the world will remember you. My words. And they aren’t good enough.

So wake up. Because I can’t be the one to fail so miserably at telling the rest of the world why they should miss someone they never met. You have 24 hours. That’s not enough for me. I might not feel time, but I know I need more. I want a lifetime. So don’t let one day be the rest of your life.

\- It’s getting dark out here. Kirsten.


	11. Chapter 11

Dear Cameron,

It was a Tuesday. Fall was just starting to set in, I remember because that was the day Camille had decided it was officially cool enough to start wearing clothes to bed again.

You were in the kitchen, complaining that we didn’t have almond milk, because how were you supposed to make vegan frittatas without almond milk? Camille was more interested in how you were going to make frittatas without eggs, but you ignored her. You made waffles instead.

It was such a small thing. You put blueberries in mine. You didn’t put them in anyone else’s, because Camille refuses to eat fruit, and you seem to favor strawberries. I didn’t say thank you, because I’m not good at that, but you knew anyways. You always know. And you winked at me.

That’s all it took. A wink and a smile, that ridiculous smile that lights up your whole face and makes my chest hurt.

I didn’t know it at the time, but that was the tipping point for me. Somewhere between calling you a tool and blueberry waffles I fell completely in love with you. I am completely in love with you.

It might be too late, but I  know it now. I just thought you should too, if this is the last day I have with you.

-Love, Kirsten.


	12. The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this is the conclusion of the Dear Cameron letters, it isn't in letter format seeing as it's quite a bit longer than the others. Hope you like it!

Every time she leaves the room, Kirsten misses the beeping. That sound, it’s shrill and monotonous, and in the beginning it annoyed her so much it made her eye twitch. But now it’s a reminder, something constant and real, proof that Cameron’s heart is still beating, if only for now.

She goes to get some coffee. Today’s the day they pull the plug, and then the beeping will stop forever. She tries to get used to it’s absence in the short walk from Cameron’s room the nurse’s lounge. She can’t.

One of the orderlies took pity on her after the first week of noticing the sad blonde who never left the floor, and now she drinks their coffee and steals their magazines to read to Cameron. But she never stays there for long. Without that beeping, Kirsten’s own heart rate would speed up, and she’d be running by the time she hit his doorway, breath slowing only when she heard it. And now it’s all going to go away. He’s going to go away.

She half jogs back to the room with her coffee in hand, sitting in a chair she’s surprised hasn’t fused to her body.

“Hey.” She murmurs, greeting Cameron because she’s not going to be able to talk to him for much longer. “Big day today.”

She’s joking, because she thinks maybe that’s what he would have done. And she thinks if she doesn’t distract herself she might crawl under the covers with him and follow him down when the monitors shut off. He wouldn’t want that, she knows. But she finds herself thinking that he gave up the right to have any opinion on that when he put them in this situation. She sets the coffee down on the hospital issue nightstand, and leans forward.

“I-”

But she’s interrupted by a knock on the door. His doctor enters, an almost suspiciously young brunette with a dusting of freckles across her nose and kind brown eyes.

“Dr. Grey.” Kirsten nods at her. The woman doesn’t smile, this isn’t that kind of day. But her face is gentle.

“I think,” She says, voice as soft as her expression, “-that today you can call me Lexie.” Kirsten shrugs, sitting on her hands to disguise the fact that they’re shaking.

“It’s not-” She says, heart leaping into her throat.

“It’s time.” Lexie says. She drops her eyes, out of respect, probably, but also out of genuine sadness. Kirsten suspects this is the kind of thing that doctors talk about in the lounge. _Such a waste._ She wants to say no, no it’s not time yet, no there’s been a mistake, you can’t actually do this, but her throat is so tight all that comes out is a strangled noise. Lexie puts her hand on Kirsten’s shoulder.

“His sister is supposed to be here.” Kirsten manages. “Sarah. Maggie called her. We can’t do this now, she needs-” She breaks off. “She needs to say goodbye.”

Because she can’t. And someone has to.

Lexie frowns.

“Ms. Goodkin called, her flight was delayed. I know it seems insensitive, but Cameron’s living will specifically stated that he didn’t want extraordinary measures past sixty days…” She sighs. “Is there anyone else you want to call? So you’re not-”

“Alone?” Kirsten finishes. Lexie nods. “I don’t think the others would come, his parents have been out of reach in Ibiza, so…no. Just Sarah.” Camille and Linus don’t visit that much anymore. They’re moving on with their lives, something they’ve been encouraging Kirsten to do as well. But as long as Cameron was here, she would be too.

This is the end, though. Of that. Of all of it. Kirsten reaches out, brushing her fingers across his face. She flashes back to the first time she’d done that, in one of his memories, her first stitch. She didn’t remember the kiss, but he did. Her near perfect memory had a gaping hole. But she could borrow his.

“Are you sure?” She asks, suddenly desperate. “We can’t wait for Sarah?” She’s stalling, because she can’t do it. She can’t do this. It wasn’t meaningful until now, the idea of taking him off life support. They always had time. But one part of time that Kirsten _could_ feel was the immediacy of _now_. And now was apparently the end of Cameron.

Lexie looks at her sympathetically.

“I understand that it’s difficult, but Cameron knew better than most what he was doing when he filled out those forms. It’s what he wanted.”

Kirsten pretends she believes that.

“I’ll give you a moment.” Lexie murmurs, turning and leaving Kirsten in the room with Cameron. She stares at him, entirely overwhelmed with the sense that she should do something.

“Cameron.” She whispers, leaning forward. He doesn’t respond, because that would be the kind of luck that Kirsten doesn’t have. “I don’t know how to do this.” She laces her fingers between his, it’s strange, holding his hand without his fingers tightening around hers. His hand just lays there, still.

“I know I’m supposed to say that it’s okay. That you’ve held on long enough, that I’ll be fine. I know I’m supposed to say that you can go.” Her hand trembles, and his with it. “But I don’t think I will be fine. And Sarah isn’t here, she never even got a chance to say goodbye. I know you love your sister, Cameron.”

She waits. Nothing.

“I don’t think I can do this.” Her voice is so low that even if he were awake he probably wouldn’t have heard it. She’s supposed to let go, she’s supposed to be saying goodbye. But she can’t form the word on her tongue, there’s no sense of peace here, no relief. It doesn’t feel like the right thing. It feels like giving up. The sound of rubber on laminate signals Lexie’s return. Kirsten feels a hand on her shoulder.

“Are you ready?” She asks. Kirsten doesn’t even try to hide her panic.

“No.” She fights the urge to throw herself on top of him. It’s illogical, and would probably just get her banned from the hospital. And as much as she can’t bear this, that would be worse. With a sigh, Lexie walks over to the machine keeping him alive. The ventilator. Kirsten grips Cameron’s hand so hard she’s almost surprised they can’t hear bones breaking. Lexie looks at her one last time, then presses a sequence of buttons on the machine, finally hitting a switch. The rattling sound that Kirsten has almost entirely tuned out stops, and Lexie reaches over, slowly pulling the tube from Cameron’s throat. Kirsten’s heart is beating wildly, she needs to stop this, fix this, she needs to something.

“Cameron.” Her voice breaks. “Just wake up, okay, you can do this. You can breathe, just-” And then she hears, it the beeping blurs into a sound she’s heard before but hoped she would never hear again. Flatline. It goes on and on. Lexie waits, and Kirsten knows there’s probably a reason, something official and medical. Time of death, she realizes. She doesn’t look at the clock. She can’t take her eyes off of him. His face is pale, more so than yesterday, and he looks so different without the animation he usually wears like an aura. That sound continues, and she turns to Lexie, feeling bloody and broken and raw.

“Can’t you turn that off?” She snaps. The sound stops. The silence is worse than the flatline. With the beeping gone, a weight settles on her chest, she can’t breathe, it’s like she’s suffocating. “I-” She chokes, and Lexie is there in a second, hands on her arms.

“Kirsten? What’s wrong?” Her eyes are wide and searching. “I think you’re having a panic attack.” Lexie mutters. “I need you to take a deep breath.”

She can’t. Her vision starts to turn black at the edges.

“Kirsten, breathe!” Lexie shouts, looking alarmed. But it’s not physically possible, her chest has turned to stone, it’s too heavy and the air won’t move. It has nowhere to go. It doesn’t feel like a panic attack. It feels like she’s dying. The room begins to blur, fading, everything is fading, including the pain.

_No._

The voice sounds familiar, but then again it’s in her head.

_NO!_

Something hits her, like a punch to the gut, and she gasps, a brutal, scraping breath. But she’s not the only one.

Lexie’s head snaps up, toward the bed.

“What-”

They both stare at the bed, as Cameron lets out a second, stuttering breath.

Kirsten shoots to her feet, swaying from the wave of dizziness that’s still hovering.

“Cam-” She croaks, throat burning from the way the air had just ripped through it.  She stumbles forward, hand on the bed. And then she sees it again, his chest rises, then falls. She turns to Lexie. “Turn the monitor back on!”

She does. The beeping is back, not the steady rhythm Kirsten is used to, erratic.

Lexie springs into action, hands tugging at his eyelids, stethoscope against his chest. She straightens up, staring at Kirsten in surprise.

“He’s back.” Lexie mutters, stunned.

  Slowly, the beeping evens out. Kirsten grabs his wrist.

“Cameron?” She can’t feel time, not really, but in that second it stands still. “Are you-”

But she’s cut off when he thrashes in the bed, the heart monitor exploding in a frenzy of alarms. Lexie hits a button above his bed, and pushes Kirsten out of the way. She grabs a few syringes off a tray beside the bed. Nurses rush in, and the shock breaks.

“No!” Kirsten shouts. Her heart is pounding in her chest, like nothing she’s ever felt. It hurts, like it’s throwing itself against her ribs, she swears she can feel it bruising.

“Get her out of here!” Lexie shouts, and then some guy in scrubs is dragging her out into the hallway. She struggles, but the pain in her chest is worsening. It’s not like before. This time it’s like tiny electric shocks, and her heart is stuttering clumsily, completely out of pace.

“Uh-” She presses her hand to her chest, and the orderly guides her to a chair.

“Are you okay?” He asks, frowning at her.

“What do you think?” She growls. The shock comes again, and she bites her lip to stop the cry of pain. And then it’s gone, the pain, and the stuttering disappear like they were never there. She sits there, nails digging into her palms, and waits. It might be hours, or minutes, she doesn’t know.

Eventually Lexie comes out into the hallway, her face schooled into that carefully neutral expression that doctors always wear. Kirsten stands.

“What happened?” Even if she was good at recognizing emotions, reading faces, she doubts she could have gotten past Lexie’s mask. The brunette blinks, her brown eyes clouding in thought.

“He’s…alive. And awake. And responsive.” She murmurs. It looks like she’s trying to force a smile, delivering good news. But even Kirsten can register the shock in the young doctor’s eyes. It doesn’t matter though. All Kirsten heard was _alive_.

“Can I see him?” She asks, already trying to push her way into the room. Lexie steps aside

He’s breathing. It’s the first thing she sees, and it’s almost like she can feel it. Yet another sensation in her chest, this one light and fluttering.

“ _Cameron_.” She breathes. There’s a colour in his cheeks that’s been missing for weeks, she’d almost gotten used to his unnatural pallor. And then something amazing happens. He turns his head, just an inch, and his eyes seem to look at her, then through her. He squints.

“Kirsten.”

She can barely recognize her name, his voice is so hoarse, so quiet. It comes out like a whistle in the wind.

“I’m here.” She steps forward, leaning over the bed so he can see her. He smiles, and that’s it for her, that boyish grin that she has missed more than she could even have comprehended a year ago.

The hiccups come first, and then they dissolve into sobs.

“I’m sorry.” She gasps, because this is hardly the first thing she’d want to see when waking up from a six month coma. But a weak hand grips hers, and squeezes.

“Stretch.”

It’s probably the only word he can get out, but it’s enough. She sits abruptly, swiping at her face, fighting the waves of emotion. She’s not used to having to deal with those. As her vision slowly clears, she just stares at him. She hasn’t seen those green eyes in a very long time. And now they’re staring back at her. Reaching out, she brushes her fingers across his cheek.

“How are you here?” She whispers. She knows the science. This day was supposed to be a funeral march. He blinks. Kirsten doesn’t know if Lexie filled him in, if he knows how long it’s been or what happened to him.

“You.” He croaks. That’s it.

One word shouldn’t make sense to her, but somehow, it clicks. The chest pain, and the suffocating weight, and that fluttering she felt when she saw him. That breath she’d taken, when Lexie said she was having a panic attack, it had felt like it was ripping something open. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was bringing something back.

“That’s impossible.” She scoffs. He doesn’t deny that, just watches her. ‘Are you real?” She murmurs, unable to look away after six weeks of trying to wake him up through only sheer force of will.

“I-”

“I know.” She cuts him off. She can feel it. He scowls at her, and joy fizzes in her chest. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed that look.

“Let me finish.” He rasps. She sighs, but stays otherwise silent. “Kirsten Clark, I love you.”

She knows. Does he?

“I love you, too.” Her voice has never been this soft.

It’s almost too tender a moment to belong to them. Kirsten doesn’t do tender. But maybe just this once. She leans over, pressing her lips to his temple. When she sits back down, her eyes drop to her hands.  This is the hard part.

“Cameron, you should know…” She starts, shifting in her seat. “It’s been six weeks since you stopped your heart. You’ve been in a coma, here.” She expects him to gasp, or flinch, or express at least the smallest amount of shock. Instead, he smiles.

“I know.”

“You-Lexie told you?” She wonders. He shakes his head.

“I could hear you. The whole time. You reading the letters, and the fights with Camillle, and you calling Sarah. I heard everything.” This is the most he’s said at once, and he seems to run out of wind about halfway through but he muddles along. And Kirsten understands.

“Oh.” She says. “This is all-”

“I know.” It’s his turn to interrupt. “It’s a lot.”

She nods. They just stare at each other some more, because it’s been a while, and they’re both wondering if maybe it will make the aching go away. Eventually, she sighs, laying her head on the bed beside him, face turned toward his. Her lips curl into a smile, something she isn’t sure she’s done in months.

“It’s really good to see you.” She mumbles. He laughs.

“Oh, Stretch. You have no idea.”


End file.
